


Peril and Scare

by frankiesin



Series: discontinued works [28]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Family Drama, Other, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Gaby and Solo meet Illya's niece.





	Peril and Scare

Chapter 1

 

Russia, 1968.

 

Dating a thief meant a lot of change in Illya’s life. Some of it was bad (him and Gaby wondering where Solo was getting these things and whether asking him would make it worse or better), but occasionally Solo’s extracurricular habits made Illya’s life better. Up until he had officially defected from the KGB (and then concocted up a new and Americanised alias with the help of Gaby), Illya had been able to go in and out of Russia with reasonable ease. He could see his nieces, Sofia and Natalia, as much as he wanted. Now, though… now Illya was in the back seat of a covered truck, with Gaby driving it and Solo smirking at him from the other side of the truck bed. There were two tranquilised and bound men on the floor between them, as well as a lot of wooden boxes. Illya doesn’t know what’s actually in the boxes. Solo said that there were only fabrics. Illya is pretty sure that this is Russia and there are probably weapons in there as well.

 

This plan, of course, was Solo’s. Gaby helped, of course, because neither she nor Solo believed that Illya could show affection towards a child, let alone have a good relationship with one. Illya would have preferred to visit Sofia and Natalia on his own, without the help from his partners, but they and insisted and Illya figured that Sofia would find some amusement from the two.

 

“There’s a checkpoint coming up.” Gaby said, glancing over her shoulder at her two boys. “Do you want me to play nice?”

 

“Yes.” Surprisingly, they were both in agreement. Solo, because he hated getting blood on his clothes and was just too high maintenance in general. Illya, because he didn’t want his brother getting wind of anyone coming for him. Illya wanted to get to Sofia and Natalia before his brother and his brother’s “friends” figured out what was happening.

 

“Okay. You two stay quiet, and stay down.” Gaby said, and then she was back to driving, not paying them any attention as they moved through the snow-covered road. Gaby knew what she was doing. She was younger than them both, and she had been a part of the spy business (as Solo so elegantly called it) for a much shorter time, but her instincts were good and she learned fast. Her Russian was adequate and she’d only been learning it for the past seven months. Illya knew that Gaby would pass through the checkpoint without any issues.

 

He still pulled out one of his guns and got ready to fire at the guards if the situation went bad. Solo did the same, even though Solo was farther down in the back of the truck and his line of sight was impeded by a box.

 

There was no need for guns, because Gaby was capable and the guards had no idea how to handle a woman of power. They drive on, into Namtsy and towards where Sergei Kobrsk keeps his daughters locked up when they aren’t out training to kill people. Illya had not told either of his partners about how young the Russians recruit their agents, because he didn’t want either of them to start asking questions about how long Illya had been involved in his line of work. Illya didn’t want them to ask how old he had been the first time he killed someone. He had killed people, he had killed a lot of people, but he honestly could not recall his first mark. He couldn’t remember where it started, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was easier to just remember his childhood as a blur, instead of having distinct markings and changes where he shifted from one role to another.

 

“How close do you want to get, or do you care at all?” Gaby asked, keeping Illya from getting too caught up in his own issues. He was here to see Sofia and Natalia, the two girls who reminded him that not everything in the world was horrible and corrupt. Illya leaned his head back against the front seats of the truck. “Stop where ever you can. I will have to talk with my brother before I can get the girls.”

 

“I still don’t see why we can’t just take them.” Solo said, looking annoyed that they weren’t going to be stealing any actual people. Just a truck. How disappointing. (Illya understood sarcasm, and could use it quite well, despite what anyone else said about him.)

 

"Because I don't want to die. Taking Sergei's daughters without permission would cause us to die." Illya said as Gaby stopped the truck and turned around to look at her boys over her large sunglasses. Illya had no idea how she had gotten away with them on the way over, but Gaby was Gaby and she loved her sunglasses. And Illya loved her in her sunglasses. "Your half-brother sounds like an asshole."

 

"He is an asshole." Illya said. "That's why I have to take care of his children for him."

 

No one responded to that, and so the three of them exited the truck and made their way down the street, with Illya in the lead and Solo blocking Gaby from the street. Illya couldn't see it himself, but he was pretty sure that Gaby was on Solo's arm. Illya appreciated the gesture, even though he would have much rather be back beside them, with Gaby holding on to him as well. Or with him on Solo's other arm. Illya didn't have much of a preference any more; he had been out of the constraints of Russia for long enough to no longer give a shit what his and Gaby's and Solo's neighbours thought about them. But now that they were in Russia again, Illya needed to act "normal."

 

The house was situated on the left side of the street, and it was surprisingly quiet. Illya was used to hearing yelling or fighting coming from inside the house. Sergei was a brute, with no regard for niceties (and Illya was the one known to punch first and then... actually he just punched), and no interest in treating women like people. Illya was used to sneaking Sofia and Natalia out through a window so as to not interrupt the men in the front of the house.

 

"That's... that's rather unassuming." Gaby said from behind him as they walked up to the door. Illya turned and looked at her and Solo. They looked good together. Illya turned back to the door and opened it. "He likes it like that. Do not say anything to him or anyone else unless I say so. I do not want you two to get hurt."

 

There were a few seconds of shuffling which Illya assumed was Gaby shutting Solo's snarky comment down before he could even say it. Then Gaby said, her voice directed more towards Solo than Illya, “We won’t say anything.”

 

“Thank you.” Illya said, and then he opened the door. Three Russian men, none of them Illya’s brother, all looked up as Illya stepped in. The youngest--probably only a year or two older than Solo--stood up and looked like he was going to draw a weapon. The oldest put a hand on the youngest. “ _Don’t shoot Illyushenka. He’s only here to beg to his brother._ ”

 

“ _Why should we give him the chance? He made his choice. He’s not a Russian._ ” The youngest snarled. From behind them, Sergei appeared, holding an opened bottle of vodka and a bloodied rag. Illya focused on not getting too angry. If Sergei had been hitting his wife again… no. It wasn’t Illya’s problem to solve. He was doing enough for Sergei’s family as it was, taking Sofia and Natalia away from their father and letting them live a normal life for a few days. He couldn’t save everyone in this family.

 

“ _I am curious as to why he thought he could come through my country alive._ ” Sergei said, handing the bottle off to the youngest, who sat back down and watched Sergei move toward Illya with barely masked amazement. Sergei was a centimetre shorter than Illya, a centimetre that he made up for with his terrifying presence. Illya would never admit it to anyone, let alone his partners behind him, but he had grown up afraid of the man in front of him. It had taken Illya years to realise that Sergei only got power from people fearing him, and it had been Sofia who taught him that. Sofia, a child who had become a mother the moment she realised her real mother couldn’t handle it. Sofia, who deserved the world but would probably end up with very little. Illya wished he was brave enough to just take Sofia and Natalia and run away with them.

 

Sergei narrowed his eyes at his younger half-brother. “ _Illya, did you take my wife and my retard of a son?_ ”

 

“ _No._ ” Illya said. He wanted to punch Sergei. Calix--the son--was no retard. Illya knew that because Sofia had said so. Sofia knew how to speak to Calix, and she knew that he was incredibly smart, but all his brilliance was trapped in his head, in a language that no one else could understand. Illya stared right back at his brother. He wasn’t going to throw the first punch. He wasn’t going to put Gaby and Solo in danger. “ _I didn’t know that Violet finally decided she was better without you. I’m glad she did, though. It was about time._ ”

 

Sergei’s mouth curled up, and Illya couldn’t tell if it was disgust or amusement. “ _I see you grew a mouth to match your fists. Did the little whore teach it to you, or was it your new boy?_ ”

 

“Illya, do us all a favour and punch him for me. Please.” Solo understood Russian. Of course. Sergei didn’t understand English. Illya smiled a little bit; at least one of them would approve of this. Sergei opened his mouth to ask for a translation (or to further insult Illya, whatever), and Illya shoved his fist into his brother’s stomach. Sergei hit him back, in the jaw, and Illya twisted Sergei’s arm. He got a knee to the hip in response, and then they were moving back towards Sergei’s friends. Glass hit Illya in the back but he barely felt it through his multiple layers of clothing and instead he just kicked his brother’s friend, successfully pushing the man out of the way. A second later he heard high-pitched German swearing, followed by English complaints, and he knew that Gaby had thrown herself into the brawl, as well as a reluctant Solo. While Illya was grateful that they were willing to jump in and defend him, he didn’t want them getting hurt. So he landed a final punch to Sergei’s face and threw the man across the room. As Sergei got up, Illya drew his weapon and pointed it at his brother. “ _Tell them to leave. I don’t want Sofia to see me with blood on my hands._ ”

 

“ _So you’re here for my daughters again. I am not surprised._ ” Sergei growled, but he turned to his three men, who had paused in their fighting. One of them was holding Gaby’s leg as she stood on his chest with her fists clenched, and the other two were in the process of tearing Solo’s suit jacket into two pieces. Solo shrugged them both off and shot them a glare, obviously furious that they were intending to ruin his clothes. Solo turned his glare on Sergei. " _You really are asshole. Do your boy know what I am wearing?_ "

 

So the grammar was still shit, but at least Solo's Russian was understandable.

 

" _Illyushenka, this one has a bite to him._ " Sergei said, and it would have been approving if it weren't for the sneer on his face. " _But you did not come here to show off your pretty boys. You know better. Sofia!_ "

 

Sergei's call for his older daughter echoed through the house as the three men exited through the front door, obviously realising that they were no longer needed. Gaby was looking from Illya to Solo, silently waiting for one of them to translate for her. Her Russian was still in the works. Solo moved so the he was once again beside her, and started whispering a translation to her while Illya and Sergei waited, tensely, for Sofia to appear.

 

She did, holding a sleeping Natalia in her arms. Natalia was just over a year old, and Sofia was almost nine. Sofia was already acting as Natalia's main caretaker, which Illya hated, but could do nothing about unless he wanted to risk not only his life but Solo's and Gaby's as well. Sergei held power over Illya, and Sofia as well, and he would continue to do so until Sofia was strong enough to take it back from him. Illya didn’t doubt her abilities; he had seen what she could do. He had seen that her decisions were made from compassion but executed with a cold and contained rage. She would be better than him, and better than her father, when she graduated from the Red Room.

 

Sofia’s eyes moved from her father to her uncle, to the pair of foreigners behind her uncle, and then back to rest on Illya. She smiled. “ _I missed you, Uncle Illyusha. I missed you a lot… you are here to take me and Natasha somewhere, right?_ ”

 

“ _Yes, of course._ ” Illya said, turning to Sergei at the end to silently dare him to argue. Illya had proven that he and his partners wouldn’t just submit to whatever Sergei wanted, and that they were capable enough to hold their own. Illya would have no problems with fighting his brother again if needed, because Illya didn’t give a shit about the well-being of Sergei, but he didn’t want Sofia to see him as a monster. Sofia had enough issues with violence as it was; the poor girl disassociated just to get through her training in the Red Room.

 

Sofia's face broke out into a real grin, one full of joy and one that Illya was thankful she could still muster up. She was ten, but in the eyes of Russia, she was already a woman and an adult. Her childhood was over. Illya was pretty sure that she had never had one to start with, because before Natalia had been born, Sofia had been taking care of her ill younger brother, Calix. Sofia’s mother had taken Calix with her when she fled, though, which meant that Calix would most likely be getting any medical attention he needed. Sergei had never bothered to try and fix Calix, instead choosing to blame his wife for not providing him with a “real” son and punishing Sofia for sticking up for her own brother.

 

Sofia’s bright green eyes flicked past Illya to where Gaby was perched on the arm of a chair and Napoleon was clutching his torn jacket like it was his favourite stuffed animal that someone had tried to take from him. The sight, which Illya could see out of the corner of his eye, was adorable. Illya would never say that to Solo, but he might mention it as an aside to Gaby, knowing that she would appreciate it in ways Solo never could.

 

“ _Who are they, Illusha?_ ” Sofia said, her face not betraying any curiousity. Illya stood up to his full height, Sofia’s eyes maintaining contact as he grew in front of her. “ _They are my partners. I will introduce them to you once we get to the van… are you ready to go?_ ”

 

She was. She ran back into the bedroom and came out with a bag and a coat for her and for Natalia. She let Illya hold Natalia in his arm, and she held onto his other hand. She was so small, even though she was eight years old. Either that, or Illya was just very tall, even for a Russian. It didn’t matter, because Sofia’s hand fit into his like she was supposed to be his daughter, and Gaby and Solo followed behind him like they were all a functional family unit and not a bunch of strays connected only because no one else would take them in. Illya knew the illusion was false, but he would do anything to give Sofia and Natalia a sense of security. He was willing to do whatever it took to make them comfortable during the short amount of time he was left in charge of their lives.

 

And since Solo and Gaby were now involved, it meant that they would get to experience some Western indulgences.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Chapter 2

 

Gaby did not usually like children. It wasn’t that she found them annoying, but they were so high maintenance and loud, and she didn’t know how to deal with them. She wasn’t sure if Illya’s niece was better or worse. Sofia wasn’t loud and she didn’t try to touch Gaby or Napoleon, which Gaby appreciated immensely, but she also had a staring problem. The five of them were on an UNCLE jet going from Moscow to New York, which was about ten hours in the air, and Sofia had spent the last three watching Gaby and Napoleon. After the first hour, Napoleon had exchanged a series of looks with Illya, grabbed a blanket, and had then just gone to sleep beside Gaby. He was currently still asleep and nuzzling at her shoulder. It would have been endearing if Sofia wasn’t watching the exchange with slightly narrowed eyes.

 

Gaby shifted in her seat and Napoleon made a noise of protest. _Protest all you want, Liebchen, you’re not the one getting visually deconstructed by a seven year old._ Illya did not seem to notice her shifting; he was too busy rocking the baby. The baby, Natalia, was so small in Illya’s arms. It was cute. Gaby was still uncomfortable. She let out a cough and kicked at Illya with her foot. She must have kicked at him hard enough because he looked up from Natalia and turned his attention to her. “Are you alright?”

 

“Does she speak English? Or German?” Gaby said. She had spent the past five years trying to learn Russian, and could speak it at the level of an eight year old. The other languages she had picked up (courtesy of Napoleon, who picked up languages like he used to pick up bedmates) came easily, but for some unfortunate reason, Russian was not working for her.

 

“Yes.” Illya turned to his niece and said, in Russian, “ _Sofia, speak English for Gaby, please._ ”

 

“I didn’t have anything to say to her.” Sofia answered, staring up at Illya now. Well, at least Gaby knew that she could communicate with the girl, even though her English was more accented than Illya’s had been when he first started working with UNCLE. The girl turned back to staring at Gaby. "I did not mean to bother you or your friend. I was just looking at you."

 

"It is a Russian thing." Illya supplied, as if that made it better. Gaby nodded anyway, because she didn't want to hash it out with Illya while his niece was there. She wasn't great around children, but she was going to at least try and work with them. It was the least she could do for Illya. Illya cared very much for his two nieces. They were the only members of his biological family who didn't treat him like scum, and Gaby wasn't about to ruin that for him.

 

Gaby pulled out a newspaper that had been placed on the table earlier in the day. “I think I’m going to read for a bit, Illya.”

 

And so she did. Eventually the words started to blur together, and she lowered the paper. Napoleon was still asleep on her shoulder, a single strand of his black-brown hair curling down onto his forehead. Illya still had Natalia in his arms, but both of them were asleep, and Sofia was resting her head in Illya’s lap, her green eyes half lidded and slowly shutting themselves. So everyone else was going to try and avoid jet lag. Gaby might as well join them. She tossed the paper onto the table, Napoleon let out a grunt of protest from her shoulder digging into his face, and then she leaned back. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off into sleep.

 

It wasn’t the best sleep she had ever had, but when she woke up six hours later, she didn’t feel as tired as she had been when she had gone to sleep originally.

 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Napoleon said from beside her. His hair was ruffled and the blanket was now a small lump in his lap. There were also playing cards in his hand. Gaby noted that Illya and Sofia were both awake again, and also had cards. Natalia was holding onto the corner of the blanket that was draped across both Illya and Sofia’s laps. Illya smiled at Gaby. “Do you want to join? Solo thinks he can beat Sofia at this game.”

 

“She’s _ten_ , Peril.” Napoleon said, and laid down a card. “I know you’re the proud father figure in her life, but I’m not going to lose to a ten year old.”

 

“No, but you could lose to me.” Gaby said. She lifted her chin up in the air. “What are we playing, Illya? And deal me in for the next round.”

 

“It’s called _Mau_ , and it’s supposed to be a drinking game.” Napoleon said, as Sofia placed three cards down on top of his. Napoleon glared at the girl, but there wasn’t a lot of weight behind the glare. So. Apparently Napoleon knew how to deal with children. That was one of them, at least. Of course, Gaby hadn’t expected Napoleon to actually know how to deal with anyone he couldn’t have sex with, but it was good that he did know how to deal with children. It meant that Gaby wouldn’t have to pretend to be maternal and soft and coo over Sofia and Natalia.

 

“What are the rules?” Gaby asked.

 

“You can not ask question.” Sofia said. Illya put a card down and Gaby could see his lips pulling up in a small and concealed smile. He was completely wrapped around her finger. Gaby hoped that the KGB, or anyone else for that matter, never found out how much Illya cared about the two small girls around him. Illya wasn’t an easy one to break; the only time he had ever budged had been when the mad scientist of the week had turned her tools onto Gaby and Napoleon. Then Gaby had been sure that Illya would break his bindings from how angry he was.

 

“No questions unless a point of order has been called, Jack’s change suit, two’s are a play again card… there are more, but right now I’m trying not to get my ass kicked by Peril over here.” Napoleon winked at Illya, who responded with the most stoic expression in the world. Gaby laughed at the two of them.

 


End file.
